


The Magicians: Fillory and Further (Fanfic continuation of the series)

by eventualprocrastination



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Best Friends, Drama, Drugs, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29391621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eventualprocrastination/pseuds/eventualprocrastination
Summary: This is a fanfic continuation of the television series, set a few months after season 5. It will span three seasons only, comprised of 13 "episodes" each, just like the 13 episodes from each season of the actual show. Each chapter is considered an episode. It begins with the introduction of an original character, Aria, who comes from a different point in time, Eliot befriends her and helps her find her way in the present world of Earth while he's still finding his own way. Meanwhile, everyone is still trying to figure out how to find Margo, Alice, Fen and Josh who are in the process of rebuilding the new Fillory.
Relationships: 23rd Timeline William "Penny" Adiyodi/Julia Wicker, Charlton/Eliot Waugh, Eliot Waugh/Original Female Character(s), Margo Hanson/Josh Hoberman, William "Penny" Adiyodi/Julia Wicker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 2





	The Magicians: Fillory and Further (Fanfic continuation of the series)

* * *

**November 1967 **

A single plume of smoke billowed and spiraled skyward and slowly took the shape of a teddy bear that began to dance. Without missing a beat, a baby's laughter echoed through the backyard of a moderately sized Suburban home in Sleepy Hollow, New York. The child's mother smirked, while pushing a strand of her blonde hair out of her eyes, looking down at her son who had just reached the six month mark, and what a bittersweet six months it had been. She was seated on a patio chair with one leg crossed over the other and her elbows resting on the arm rests of the chair. She seemed very put together and calm without an ounce of unease or anxiety about her. She was rather contemplative as if she was wondering what to make for dinner and not how she was going to escape her nightmare marriage. Taking another drag from her cigarette, she held in the smoke for a few moments before releasing it out into the air. With a few movements from the fingers of her free hand the smoke curled this way and that, catching the attention of her son once again who was watching with utter amazement from the blanket on the grass in front of her.

She smiled with the unconditional love she felt for her baby boy and allowed the smoke to take on the form of a simple heart that expelled a smaller heart from the center of it. As her cigarette was already at the end, she took one last puff and put it out in the ashtray beside her on the patio table. She pushed herself up from the chair and inhaled a clean breath of fresh air as well as the courage she needed to go forward. Her nerves had been on end all morning and taking a smoke break hadn't really done too much to calm those nerves, despite how she outwardly appeared. Crouching down, she held her hands out and lifted her son into her arms. Instinctively he pressed his face down against her chest and gripped onto her shirt with one hand and her arm with the other. It was his go-to when she held him. He loved cuddling and she loved it just as much.

Wrapping her arms around him to hold him close, she walked them back into the house. Once in the living room, she set her son down into his wooden playpen and rustled his toys around to grab his attention so that he wouldn't notice her leave the room and start crying. When she was satisfied enough with his amount of distraction, she slipped from the room and made her way into the front hall and then up the stairs. Turning down the short hall she picked up her pace and practically ran into her bedroom and made a beeline for the closet. Whipping open the closet door, she frowned at being too short to reach the top shelf but simply held her right hand up and gestured at the suitcase staring back at her. It moved on its own, budging near the shelf's edge and then tipped over the edge, allowing her to catch it with ease. Without wasting a moment, she tossed the suitcase onto the bed and performed a quick finger tut to allow the suitcase to pop open and then performed the same tut to open drawers in her dresser. With added tuts, a few clothing items began to fly out of the drawers and off hangers in the closet, float over to the suitcase, hover above, fold themselves compactly and set gently down into the suitcase. She hurried back out of the bedroom and into her son's room where she grabbed a few of his outfits from his small dresser and a package of Pampers disposable diapers, because her husband detested cloth diapers; deeming them disgusting, not that he ever changed a diaper anyway, but that was another sore spot for a different day.

With her suitcase packed with the bare necessities of clothing for herself and her son, along with the absolutely necessary items he would need for an extended time away from the house, she lugged the suitcase down the stairs and left it next to the front door. When her son noticed her reappearance in the living room, he smiled and held his hands outward, wanting only her again. She smiled and swooped him up out of the playpen, planting kisses on his cheek and into the crook of his neck which garnered laughter from his lips. In the midst of blowing a spit bubble for her, she brought him into the front hall, shifted him onto her hip and then reached for her purse on the small table beside the door. Slinging the purse over her shoulder opposite from her son so he wouldn't try playing with it, but before picking up the suitcase, she opened the front door. Once outside in the unseasonably warm November air, she set the suitcase down long enough to shut the front door behind them.

Then, she just stood there, staring out toward the front lawn.

She just stared blankly, her chest heaving slightly as if a panic attack was around the corner while one foot dangled off the front stoop and hovered over the paved walkway below. Her lips parted as if to say something to someone not there, as if she were about trying to make excuses not to step down and keep going forward. With a look over her shoulder, she stared the front door down, almost willing it to convince her to stay; to give her some reason to not escape the life she was desperate to get her and her son away from. She almost turned completely around when the sound of shoddy breaks on a car squeaked as the vehicle they belonged to came to a stop.

Looking up, the mother of this little boy smiled at the sight of the yellow taxicab waiting there at the end of her driveway. It was like a godsend and the extra kick to her ass to get her going as if she wasn't the one who had called for the taxi to arrive an hour ago.

A breath of temporary relief escaped her lips and she stepped down from the front stoop and picked up her pace as she made her way down the driveway. As she got nearer, the driver hopped out and made his way around the back of his vehicle.

"Morning, ma'am," he greeted with a tip of the flat cap he was wearing. "Allow me."

With little resistance, she let him take her suitcase and then waited as he opened the back passenger door for her. She nodded her thanks and slid into the backseat all while holding onto her son.

"Charming little one you got there, ma'am."

"Thank you," she muttered quietly before he shut the door after her.

While she waited inside the taxi, the driver moved to the back of the vehicle and opened up the trunk to set her suitcase inside. Holding her son tightly on her lap, she let her gaze follow the figure of the driver as he made his way back toward the driver's side after shutting the trunk. He lumbered casually along and once he was inside the taxi, he looked over his shoulder and smiled.

"Where to?"

"Tarrytown train station, and please be quick about it," she replied, glancing nervously out her window, back at her house.

No, _his_ house.

"Sure thing." The driver nodded and turned back around, facing forward.

Once the key was turned in the ignition to bring the taxi back to life, the engine revved. The simple act of a foot to the gas pedal caused the vehicle to lurch forward enough that the woman had to shoot a hand out to keep her and her son from sliding face first into the back of the front seat.

"Sorry about that," the driver apologized.

"It's alright," she assured, catching his eye in the rear view mirror.

"Going on a trip?" he asked, making small talk as they turned off her street and made a left onto the intersecting road.

"Visiting a friend."

"That's nice. I assume not that far away. That suitcase of yours didn't feel too heavy. I know you ladies love your clothes and other doo-dads."

She forced a smile to be polite. "Just a short trip. Only a few days."

"Where ya going?"

"I'm sorry but can we not chit chat?" she asked a bit brusquely. When she saw the way he stiffened at her tone, she frowned. "I'm sorry, but I'm a nervous traveler. I'm trying to not focus on the journey ahead."

"No problem, ma'am. I'll be silent as the grave from here on out."

"Thank you. I appreciate the kindness."

Inwardly, she was rolling her eyes, but outwardly she flashed him a demure, ladylike smile.

* * *

**September 2020**

Eliot Waugh was lying on his back on the wraparound sofa in Kady's penthouse; one long leg stretched out on the cushions while the other was bent at the knee with his foot planted firmly upon the floor below. His eyes were closed with an arm draped over them. His free hand was gripping onto his silver flask that was resting upon his chest and every so often you, if one was paying attention very closely, they could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. The source of those clenches came very obviously from the sounds of an infant wailing nearby, somewhere in the penthouse. A door shutting loudly caused Eliot, who had been trying to nap a little, to wince. Footsteps followed, approaching him, and soon the cushion his head was resting upon sagged downward, alerting him to someone having sat down beside him.

"She's still crying? She was crying when I left this morning." It was Kady. "That was, what, eight hours ago?"

Eliot slid his arm off of his face and sighed. "They think she has colic."

"What even is colic anyway?"

"I don't know. I think it's just the excuse medical professionals give for infants who have realized they have to live in the world and grow up to have responsibilities and have decided to express their grief with constant screaming. And, I mean, same."

Kady raised an eyebrow as she propped and elbow upon the back of the sofa. "Jesus. You look rough," she commented, looking down at him and smirking.

There were dark circles under his eyes and the eyeliner he'd taken to wearing more often than not over the last few years was only slightly smudged. "Hope sounds like how I feel on the inside."

"I thought life was good for you lately. You got a good job, a steady and healthy relationship…"

"As a whole, I'm okay. But today I'm hungover as fuck."

Kady furrowed her brow. "It's four in the afternoon. How are you still hungover from last night?"

Slowly, Eliot began to sit up and then slouched into the sofa back, once more stretching his long legs out before him. At approximately six feet and three inches tall, his legs had no other option but to stretch out lest he be cramped up. Just as slowly as he sat up, he looked over at Kady as if he'd just been told some very stressful news. "I never went to bed last night, so I didn't get to sleep it off. And then I went straight to Brakebills this morning."

Kady let out a short laugh. "You were drunk while you were teaching?"

"If Fogg could do it, so can I."

"And did you?"

"Barely."

The crying suddenly began to get louder and closer, with Penny appearing first from the top of the curved staircase, wearing a cradle sling wrap with his and Julia's daughter cocooned within. He looked even more haggard than Eliot, if that was possible, and Julia, who was following behind him, looked rather calm and collected, all things considered.

"I haven't slept since yesterday," Penny remarked as they descended the stairs.

"And I have?" Julia quipped, almost amused.

"I have to teach, though. I can't keep canceling classes because Hope keeps crying."

"Has she even stopped crying?" Kady questioned, looking over her shoulder at the new parents.

"There's been gaps, but she seems the most calm when Penny holds her," Julia replied and shrugged. "She's a daddy's girl."

"Okay, don't make me feel better about this when I'm exhausted and trying to be frustrated." Penny stared down at his daughter and pulled the material of the sling away a little as a little smile took up residence on his face, despite the whiny whimpers little Hope was making. "Dammit. She's still cute even when she's being a little asshole."

Julia raised an arm up and swatted the back of Penny's shoulder once they were both safely at the base of the stairs. "Language."

"She's three months old."

"I don't care that you swore. Don't call our lil' peanut an asshole."

"I'm not saying she _is_ one. I'm saying she's _being_ one." Penny looked over at Kady and Eliot for some support. "You get what I'm saying, right?"

"Wait till she's a toddler, running around, talking and developing her own personality," Eliot commented, twisting off the small cap to his flask. " _Then_ she'll actually be an asshole."

Julia shot him a withering look, but smiled a little, regardless. "So, how has your first week as a professor been?" she asked, stepping in front of Penny and looking into the sling at Hope.

Eliot took a swig of whatever it was in the flask. "Everything is scary, I hate being an adult, and I hate responsibility. Tell me a dick joke."

Julia laughed wholeheartedly and turned back around. "Did you know that men have three knees?" Off Eliot perking up with curiosity, she continued. "The right knee, the left knee, and the wee knee."

Eliot snickered. "That…that's actually pretty funny."

"That was a terrible joke," Kady countered.

"In all seriousness, though, how has teaching been? I know it's gotta be weird not being the student anymore," Julia wondered as she pulled the still whimpering Hope out of the sling and into her arms.

"The fact that I didn't technically graduate from Brakebills aside, it has been weird," Eliot agreed.

"I'm a professor, too. You never ask me how it is," Penny remarked.

"You only have a tiny handful of traveler students, though," Julia explained. "Eliot's teaching full classes every day."

"Well, not on Wednesdays. I don't have classes then," Eliot clarified. "But, and I can't believe I'm about to say this: enough about me." He shifted his weight on the sofa and turned a little more into Kady's direction. "How are the hedge witches of New York City?"

Kady looked up from her cell phone which she had staring at for a while now, seemingly perusing several text messages. "They're surviving and thriving for the first time in a long time."

Eliot nudged her calf with the toe of his shoe. "All because of you."

"I'm just helping them." She was trying to play it cool but there was a noticeable glimmer of pride in her eyes. She knew she was very much responsible for getting shit under control.

"You're teaching, too," Julia smiled.

"Something like that," Kady shrugged, looking back down at her phone. She wasn't the type who liked too much attention. "Let's shift focus back onto the lush, shall we?"

"Hey," Eliot muttered, sounding offended for half a moment. "Actually, I'm okay with that term."

Hope's whimpers began to turn back into wails again. The little girl tipping her head back so abruptly that Julia made a face of slight surprise before bracing the back of Hope's head and pulling her closer. The former goddess tried bouncing the infant and swaying from side to side to lull her, but to no avail. Hope was just in one of those moods. Again.

Eliot sighed and pushed himself up to his feet. The incessant cries wasn't helping his headache and the only solution was to find some hardcore pain medication or to find some stronger liquor and keep drinking. After all, you can't be hungover if you're still drinking. At least, that's what he was telling himself.

As he rounded the corner of the sofa and got nearer to Julia and the baby, Julia gasped and held Hope out at half an arm's length. Before he knew it, Hope was being gently thrust into Eliot's arms and with Hope out of her mother's arms it revealed two very noticeable wet stains where Julia's nipples were.

"Fuck," she grumbled and then hurried toward the kitchen, presumably to get a wet dishcloth to clean herself up or a breast pump.

"Aww, mommy sprung a leak," Eliot quipped.

That wasn't exactly odd. Julia had had moments like this before since giving birth three months ago. She was still nursing. Well, half nursing and half pumping so that Penny could feed Hope and give Julia some reprieve. What _was_ odd, was Hope was suddenly very silent and all four adults were very aware of that. Eliot, who was holding Hope as if she was a porcelain bomb about to explode fecal matter all over the place, looked down to see her big brown eyes staring up at him with an infant's sense of wonder. She was veritably entranced by him and it felt a little weird. Kady looked up from her phone, up over at Eliot and Hope with an amused raised eyebrow and then over at Penny, who was standing there with his hands on his hips, a little dumbstruck.

"Why did she stop—?" Julia began to ask as she came back into the living room area with a dish towel draped over her chest. She stopped mid-step at the sight of Eliot slowly pulling Hope into a proper cradling; growing a little more comfortable with her in his arms. "Aww, she loves her uncle Eliot."

"How's _he_ the fucking baby whisperer?" Penny inquired, pointing in a somewhat accusatory way.

"She's a traveler like Penny, right?" Kady questioned rhetorically. "She's gonna be psychic, too. She's picking up on something at a more basic level 'cause she's brand new and not bogged down by our adulthood drama."

Julia and Penny looked at each other and shrugged. It made sense, they supposed.

When he realized all eyes were on him, the unusual ease with which Eliot found holding Hope began to turn into the exact opposite. Staring into Hope's eyes was like being laid bare for the entire world to see his every thought and feeling he'd ever had. At first it was such a relief to have this little soul looking up at him without any judgments or criticism and what was simply pureness. It was like looking into the face of the literal angel and being pulled into a tractor beam of heavenly light. But reality crept back in and the light on him now was of the harsh day variety. He felt very uncomfortable again and quickly passed Hope off to Penny, who welcomed his daughter back.

"I'm gonna go. I forgot there was somewhere I have to be soon," Eliot lied.

"Aww, El…" Julia started to say, but Hope's abrupt wails beginning again snapped her attention away from the full grown man to her daughter.

Her and Penny were soon so absorbed with trying to calm their child down again that they weren't paying much attention to Eliot as he went to grab for his jacket, which had been draped over the tan, swiveling accent chair, and then made a beeline for the double doors that led out of the penthouse. Kady wasn't involved with Hope's antics and also stood up to claim solace from the crying in the master bedroom downstairs, which was hers since this was her penthouse, after all. Plus there was that sound proofing spell that she'd be able to cast to muffle the noise once she was within her bedroom's walls for some peace and quiet.

"Hey, Eliot," she called out as he held open one of the two double doors.

He paused and turned slightly. "Yeah?"

"Is this someplace you gotta be a date or something with Charlton?" she asked with a teasing grin.

Eliot flashed a small, reserved smile at her. "Something like that."

Turning back, Eliot slipped out of the penthouse, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

**November 1967**

The blonde woman was walking through midtown Manhattan with her six-month-old son on her hip and her suitcase in her opposite hand. She hadn't really thought this part through as she struggled along the paved sidewalk a block away from Grand Central Station. Plenty of people pushed past her, though alert of the infant in her arms and careful not to bump into her. Had her son not been there, that pleasantry might've been off the table. She trudged onward, she was grateful she had opted to wear her flats today. Walking in anything heeled would've been a nightmare, though not something she was unfamiliar with. The flats were just a hell of a lot more comfortable for.

As she walked along, her mind drifted to the hour long train ride and how she'd allowed the occasional view of the Hudson River to distract her from her current predicament. It had been a short but much needed break from life, even if she did have her son situated upon her lap at the time. At least he hadn't been fussy. In fact, the motion of that particular mode of travel had lulled him into a much needed nap. The crying had begun when the ride came to a stop and they had to depart. Getting a bit jostled around then didn't help any but after taking a moment to collect themselves in a women's bathroom at Grand Central, and one diaper change later for him, all seemed right as rain for the time being.

The woman was now thinking about what her next steps were.

This entire plan of hers had been a long time coming, but it wasn't until very late the night before that she had decided to finally act on it. That morning, first thing, she had made one of two phone calls that day. The second had been to the taxi company that had arrived at the designated time she had asked to be picked up by. The first call, however, was to the only person in the world she truly cared about, her son aside.

Her best friend John Foxwood, a self-proclaimed dandy, who had once promised to marry her if they both remained single by the time they reached thirty years of age, was her lifeline. She had married well before her thirtieth birthday so that pact was off the table now, but he was still her person in a crisis. Anyone else might turn to their immediate family—parents, or siblings—but she didn't have that kind of relationship with hers. They never had her best interest at heart the way John always had. And that's why he was the only person she thought to call on in her hour of need.

She asked him a simple but incredibly huge favor.

_"Help me and my son escape my husband."_

John didn't disappoint. He agreed to be there for her without hesitation. Since he lived in Boston now, it would take a little longer for him to reach her, and the only reason she didn't go straight to him was because she assumed her husband would correctly determine John would be the person she would flee to. But if John came to her, it would be more clandestine. However, even though he had agreed to leave right away to reach her, as he was also traveling by train, he wouldn't arrive for another three hours after she did, give or take. In the meantime, she would have to find something to do in the city to pass time.

When he did arrive to the city, their arrangement was to meet at the Central Park Carousel at dusk. From there they would formulate the next phase of the plan to help her and her son disappear. Eventually, she knew, they would need to find something to eat and places to change her son's diaper, probably more than once, and feed him. She wasn't nursing anymore, so thankfully finding somewhere private to do that wouldn't be an issue. All she needed to do was fill a bottle with some of the powdered formula and then added water. She also had a few jars of Gerber baby food and a spoon with which to feed him. If need be, she could easily buy more of each at any of the pharmacies or small grocery stores in the city until they got situated elsewhere.

It wasn't as if she didn't have money of her own. She had her own bank account separate from her husband's that she had started for herself the moment she started grad school ten years earlier, which now felt like a lifetime ago. Her grandmother on her mother's side had just died and left all of her grandchildren a nice little nest egg. She hadn't known it at the time, when her grandmother had initially passed on, but at the reading of the will, when the monetary amounts were read aloud for each of the grandchildren to hear, she had received the most. Fifty thousand dollars to be exact. And she was the only grandchild who had a letter written from her grandmother, explaining that she, more or less, was her favorite grandchild, who had been the kindest and deserved more above all the others. She had hid that letter, destroying it so her brother, her sister and her cousins couldn't know what it had said. But the fact that she had received more than double the amount than they all had meant they didn't really need the letter to get the gist of what had happened.

So, her money was her own, she never needed her husband's and he could never touch hers. Her name was the only name on the account. And it wasn't your average bank either. It was a private bank her family had used for generations and maintained very guarded security measures to prevent any form of theft. The woman felt safe to know her money was in good hands. The only thing she had changed about her account was adding a stipend that if she died, her account would transfer ownership to that of her son and no one else, not even her husband if he were the surviving parent. The only thing is her son would not be able to touch that money until he reached the age of twenty-two. If she were to die after his twenty-second birthday, then there would be nothing keeping him from getting his hands on the money right away. He would already be an adult, and she hoped, by then, a father or even a grandfather. She wanted to live long enough to see great-grandchildren but would be content with just grandchildren. Hell, she would just be happy to see her son grow up into an adult.

She didn't want to think of something so negative, but in a moment like this it was hard not to focus on the possible outcomes of the future. A couple of months ago, when her husband got violent with her for the first time since learning she was pregnant with their son, she had almost forgot what it was like to be treated like a punching bag. He'd actually been kind to her and treated her well. Or, rather, well enough. He still seemed to regard her with disdain and talked down to her and belittled her when he got the chance. She was just thankful he worked away from home during the week and she only had to see him Friday evening until Sunday evening when he went away.

He was a professor at her alma mater, where she'd attended grad school in upstate New York. It was a lovely campus that was a bit out of the way and confusing to get to if you didn't have the proper directions, so to speak. She never talked about her time there with neighbors. John had been a classmate of hers then. That's how they'd met during their first of three years as matriculated students. Her husband had been teaching there while she'd been in attendance, and in those years she had respected him and thought him an intelligent and kind man. He was considerably reserved and didn't often converse with any students beyond the classroom, and he had been stern in the studious way; in the way that a good teacher was serious about his students reaching their fullest potential. She hadn't thought much else of him then, especially when her parents had all but pushed her onto him. They had hopes to attain a good marriage to a respectable man for their willful, youngest daughter, to squash those ridiculous ideas of traveling the world by herself, living the bohemian life and, heaven forbid, never marrying or creating a family of her own.

The woman's parents were as old school as it got. They wanted their son to attain an amazing career and marry a good woman from a good family who would give him a few children and keep a nice home. They wanted the same for their daughters as they wanted from their prospective daughter-in-law, and only the woman's older sister seemed to fall into line like a good little soldier. Her sister was content to play the stay at home mother, the housewife; doting on her husband and making sure a warm meal was waiting for him when he returned from work after eight hours at the office. Her sister was content to have a life that was not her own but only belonged to her husband and children.

The woman never wanted that. She didn't want marriage. She didn't want children.

She wanted a career. What career she wasn't sure of, but she wanted one. And she wanted to travel, to see the world, and whatever apartment or loft she decided to make her home she wanted to be in a city somewhere that was alive with so much to see and do.

Here in New York City had originally been her goal. A lot of former classmates moved here after graduation and settled in areas like Greenwich Village or across the East River in Brooklyn. Some went west to San Francisco or Seattle. One or two ended up in Chicago, and then, of course, there was John in Boston. She wanted a small place of her own, filled with books and plants, records a plenty so she could listen to all sorts of music, a fluffy angora cat that would cuddle on her lap on rainy nights and a fridge that was too small to keep enough food so that she had an excuse to go out to eat and try new cuisines. She had wanted to go to museums and the theater, stroll through parks and meet new people. And, although she didn't want marriage, she _did_ want to fall in love.

While she had eventually caved to her parents' demands of her and agreed to marry her former professor who became her husband, she never loved him. And after everything he'd put her through, she definitely could never love him. She hated to use the word 'hate', but she hated him. She would've run away sooner, but when she had finally got the gumption to do it, she'd found out she was pregnant, and those plans were put on hold. And when, over the last year, when the violence had ceased because he'd also found out she was pregnant and while she was still breastfeeding, the woman had begun to think he'd turned over a new leaf and was going to change. That he was going to be something closer to the man she'd known as her professor, not the brute he'd become shortly after their honeymoon was over. But he reverted to old ways, and considering he was almost double her age, she definitely couldn't get that leopard to change his spots.

She'd fallen in love with her son, though. He was her world now and she didn't want him to grow up in a home where his mother was treated like a rag doll; tossed and thrown around without a care. He wanted her son to grow into a better man, a kind man. She wanted him to be the exact opposite of his father.

The woman came to stop as a moment of fear rushed over her. It was fleeting but the dread remained. Her son, who was babbling away in infant gibberish, was growing heavier in her arms. She was of a petite build and her little boy was growing by the day. Carrying him like this was tiring, but wouldn't be so hard if she didn't have the suitcase, too.

Crouching down slightly, she set the suitcase between her legs and shifted her son to the opposite hip. Once she was sure he was secure there, she picked her suitcase back up with the hand that had previously been keeping her son to her.

Inhaling a deep, steadying breath, she continued on up Park Avenue.

* * *

**September 2020**

Eliot was walking through Central Park, now wearing his jacket he had grabbed on his way out of Kady's penthouse. He removed his flask from an inner pocket, twisted off the cap and took a subtle swig before returning it back to the pocket from whence it came. He let out a slow breath, taking in the cool breeze that was signaling the end of summer and beginning of fall. There was always something nice to the quality of air every time there was a change in seasons that he enjoyed. The trees were still green, but a few were starting to pop with the beginnings of yellows, oranges and reds. The people around him on the walking paths were still dressed as if it were the height of summer, except for him, as he was wearing his typical three-piece dress suit he'd been wearing all day. There were other gentleman like him, dressed nicely in suits; those that were getting out of work and walking home through the park as a nice change of pace from that of the hustle and bustle of the city streets and the offices they'd just spent the last eight or more hours in. Those men, though, were carrying the cliché briefcases, or messenger bags, and seemed to be glued to their cell phones.

Eliot was walking through the park as he had been doing over the last two months; without a care.

Ever since Margo, Fen, Alice and Josh had disappeared while they were trying to create a new Fillory, Eliot had felt lost again. He had been given the position of teaching varying levels of telekinesis to first, second and third year students at Brakebills shortly after the disappearance of his friends and the birth of Hope, whose middle name of Quentin had come from the name of another of his friends, a man he had quietly loved and lost a little over a year before. He had just started to get out of that funk and was still dealing with the trauma that came along with being imprisoned in his own mind while an ancient monster had confiscated his body when his friends were gone in a blink of an eye. Not knowing where they were made it virtually impossible to find them. There were plenty of avenues to travel in order to locate them, but it was going to be a long road he feared, and that's if they were ever found.

With little Hope Quentin Adiyodi being a traveler like her father had been, and with his knowledge of how to travel, and safely at that, Penny and Julia had been able to travel here and there with their little one in tow in search of any and all clues that would lead to information about where the missing foursome were. Eliot didn't have that skill set. He was a telekinetic Physical kid who was a master mixologist, and now he had also found himself in his first healthy relationship with Charlton; a young man from Fillory who had spent a couple thousand years with the same monster in his body and had spent enough time in Eliot's mind as well. It was a weird way to start a relationship but at least Eliot didn't have to worry about hiding anything from Charlton. He already knew every dark detail about his life.

Eliot wasn't a traveler like Hope and like Penny had been, or psychic like Penny, or an intellectual like Julia to help him find his friends. He had been given a purpose, though, in the meantime, just as Kady did as leader of the hedge witches of New York City. She'd been so busy with that the last few months that she hadn't really been too involved with helping to locate the others, which Eliot supposed he could understand. Kady had grown up a hedge witch, and the daughter of one. They were her people long before she got into Brakebills. With the original Penny dead and working somewhere in the Underworld, her ties to their central group of friends were looser these days. She came and she went, but she helped out in a crisis if they needed her.

Even though his life had found some meaning and life was as calmer now than it had been in a long time, he still felt like something was missing, and it wasn't Margo, Fen, Alice and Josh. He just didn't feel complete yet. He enjoyed Charlton's company, and Julia and Penny were great, but he felt like he was simply going through the motions around them.

It's likely he needed his Bambi back and then some of that sparkle would return to his life. And Fen, too. She was technically his wife, and he still wore his wedding ring, even though they hadn't lived as man and wife since he'd been deposed as High King of Fillory. But she was his family. They'd created a child together, even if the child had been taken and died after birth. Margo was his best friend, Fen was his wife, Alice was his friend who had shared in his love and loss of Quentin, and Josh…well, Josh was Margo's boy toy and since he was important to her, he was important to Eliot. Without those four, their group of friends was splintered and so he felt like half of himself was missing.

He had begun trying to deal with that particular loss by going on walks over the summer, usually around dusk, when there weren't as many people in Central Park as during midday. It was quieter and it was calmer. Even though he'd never enjoyed being left alone with his own thoughts and often chose to silence them with drugs and alcohol or mindless sex with random men, and once or twice a random woman, he actually found solace in being left alone with his thoughts in a quiet place lately.

After his first week of strolling through the park, and occasionally eating a meal there, he had happened upon a stone statue of a woman that was along one of the pathways, tucked between some shrubbery. There was a small plaque at her stone feet stating the statue was called 'Woman Concealed, 1967' and that the artist was unknown. He wasn't sure the statue had stood there in that spot in the park since 1967, or if it had been placed there at some point afterward, but there was something about it that drew him to it. There was a bench on the other side of the pathway he would sit upon and just stare at the statue, studying every feature, every nook and cranny. The more he visited, the more he felt emotion for this inanimate object. It had a lot to do with the expression carved into the face and the position of the hands.

The stone woman looked sad and terrified all at once and her hands were outstretched before her as if she was trying to block herself from being struck by something. It was utterly heartbreaking and Eliot wasn't ashamed to admit that on a few occasions, especially when he was already feeling emotional or having a shitty day, he had cried while looking at her. He wanted to know the story behind this statue. He wanted to know who the sculptor was so he could pick apart their brain and ask why the statue looked as she did. He figured that was one of the oldest points of any form of art, though. It was meant to evoke emotion and it affected everyone differently; that each person took away something different and new from what it was they were looking at.

It was only Thursday, which meant Eliot had one more day of classes to teach before the weekend, thus ending his first full week as a professor at Brakebills, but he was already stressed about it. He wasn't sure he was doing a good job and he was certain his students assumed he was an idiot and weren't learning a thing from him. And, again, he was in a funk because he missed Margo, most of all. She was the Bonnie to his Clyde. The Thelma to his Louise.

He frowned suddenly as he was walking near The Loeb Boathouse.

Those weren't exactly great examples of pairings. Both died violently, albeit epically.

He'd have to think on a better pairing, but for now he had a statue to visit to help him take his mind off the rest of the world for a little while.

* * *

Julia was sitting on one of the two green stools at the kitchen island in the penthouse, wearing a shirt different from the one she'd been wearing earlier. In front of her was a baby monitor complete with a small, black and white screen so that she could watch Hope sleeping in her crib that Kady had been wonderful to get and set up in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs. Julia's eyes were drooping as she sat there with her head in one hand and the other gripping a cup of coffee that someone had made either that morning or as far back as three days ago. It was hard to tell but thankfully it didn't taste like shit. Even if it did, all that mattered was staying awake because, after all, seven in the evening was just a little too early to turn in for the night. Then again, her and Penny's sleep patterns had been completely shot to hell since Hope was born, and they were hoping their daughter would finally start to get used to sleeping longer through the night so that they could, too.

Penny, at the moment, was upstairs taking a shower, or at least that's what he had said he was going to do. For all she knew, he had made an attempt and possibly just collapsed of exhaustion on the bed they shared. Julia glanced at the monitor and noticed Hope shifting around a little, but was thankfully and finally sleeping. She couldn't see her and Penny's bed, since the other monitor was angled only at the crib, to tell if that's really where Penny was, and suddenly she was second guessing having this cup of coffee after all. Maybe she should just say "fuck it" to normalizing her sleeping pattern and just get some damn sleep. Wasn't the mantra to sleep when baby sleeps, anyway? Why was she fighting it?

Her fingers gripped the coffee mug a little tighter and began to absentmindedly turn it around and around on the island. She really wasn't drinking much of it, or at least not quickly enough. She could feel through the porcelain of the cup that the liquid within was only lukewarm at best now. She could always microwave it, but that required getting up and she was too tired to even do that. She was starting to wonder how much it would hurt if she just leaned back and let herself fall onto the floor and pass out right there. It would definitely knock the wind out of her, but she'd been through worse physical pain before. Giving birth, most recently.

"Hi."

Julia blinked and turned to her right and saw Eliot standing there, holding what looked to be a cigarette between his fingers. He looked exhausted as well. "Hey," she replied. "Where did you go?"

"The park."

Eliot walked up toward her and pulled back the other green stool and sat down in it. Despite being tired, himself, he sat up very straight and astutely in that Eliot way of his. On further inspection and from the strong smell alone, Julia knew at once it was not a regular cigarette, but a rather unassuming and expertly rolled joint.

"You've been going there a lot. What's so interesting there? Have you joined a beer league baseball team?"

Eliot made a face. He wasn't one for organized athletics. "God, no." He lifted the joint to his lips and took a drag and then leaned back some as he released a coil of smoke from his lips.

With a curl of her fingers, she beckoned for the joint. "Pass the Dutchie on the left-hand side, bro."

Eliot raised an eyebrow at her and smirked. "Should you be smoking?" he inquired, handing the joint to her. "You're still breastfeeding."

"A little THC in my bloodstream might help calm her down and help her sleep better the next time."

Eliot watched Julia take a long drag that seemed to go on forever. He raised a hand to his face and ran it downward before letting out a sigh and taking the joint when Julia handed it back to him. "Where's Penny?"

"Showering. Or asleep." She shrugged. "I don't know."

"How come you're not asleep? Sleep when the baby sleeps and all that."

"Yeah, I know," she nodded. "Maybe I'm just enjoying the peace and quiet."

Eliot smirked, taking another drag. He held the smoke in; feeling it finally take effect. "I did notice that it was unusually silent. Where's Kady?"

"A meeting with a group of hedges at some bar in Washington Heights. She had invited me along. Thought I might need to get out and spread my wings for a while."

"How come you didn't go?"

"Too tired."

"Amen."

Julia turned her head and studied his profile. For as long as she could remember over the last couple of years he'd been letting his hair and facial hair grow, though he kept the latter maintained very close to his face. A few weeks back he had shaved his face as smooth as Hope's behind, and it seemed like it had grown back overnight and, since then, he'd just continued to maintain it the same as he had before. It was a good look for him, though. Then again, he was Eliot. He could honestly pull off any look.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I know it's a dumb thing to say, but you just seem sad. I know you miss them, especially Margo." She placed a hand on his forearm and smiled tiredly at him. "Penny and I haven't stopped looking. We've just been a little tired and distracted lately and needed a break from the traveling."

"It's alright. I don't expect you to spend your every waking moment searching every possible lead when you have an infant that takes precedence," Eliot assured, taking one last drag before performing a simple tut to extinguish the joint before it burnt down too closely to his fingers. "I've tried researching what I could at Brakebills. Fogg's helped a little, but only when he's holding that poor cat. Charlton has tried to help, but that's like letting a toddler help prepare a Thanksgiving feast. His heart is in the right place but he's mostly in the way."

"Are things not going well between you two?"

"What? No, we're fine. Just still settling in with each other. This is new territory for both of us." He cast a side glance at her and attempted an assuring smile but it came out a little more crooked and half-hearted than he intended. "I've never had a healthy relationship with anyone that's lasted this long. I mean, it's been almost three months. That's equivalent to three years for me. Plus, I don't think he's ever had a relationship. He wasn't necessarily a virgin, but he was inexperienced in all things, so I've been pulling double duty where teaching is concerned."

"You kind of make it seem like it's a job, no offense," Julia remarked, once again returning to absentmindedly twisting her coffee cup around in circles.

Eliot didn't take any offense. He sighed and simply shook his head. "No, teaching is a job," and he said it as if what he did at Brakebills was akin to working in literal coal mines at the start of the previous century. "But it's a good job and I honestly do appreciate being given some sort of purpose in my life. And being with Charlton has been a good thing for me, too. For the first time in possibly forever, my life is far too together right now for someone who's such a hot mess on the inside and I'm trying not to fuck it up."

Julia smirked, reaching a hand out and placing it gently upon Eliot's upper arm. "Aww, sweetie, you're a little bit of a hot mess on the outside, too."

Eliot caught her eye and offered an appreciative smile. "Thank you."

There was silence between them then and it was a good silence, especially since there'd been little of it lately.

After what felt like an hour but was likely less than a minute, a door upstairs clicked open and the shuffling of footsteps followed. Both Julia and Eliot turned their heads to the right and waited as they listened to those footsteps continued down the staircase just before Penny appeared. He was wearing only boxers and nothing else, with the towel half draped over his shoulder while he was using one hand to ruffle his hair to dry it. He stopped mid-step when he realized Eliot was there and dropped the towel in front of him in such a way that covered his chest and his crotchal region as aloofly as possible. It was simply that he'd never been this undressed in front of anyone of his friends before, other than Julia, obviously. Well, Kady knew what he looked like naked, but she knew another version of him intimately and not this version of him, which made it less weird.

"Oh, hey. I didn't know you'd be coming back here tonight," Penny greeted Eliot; attempting lame conversation.

"I spent too much time in the city this evening. This place was closer than making my way back to the cottage," Eliot replied, not looking directly at Penny because he could tell the other man felt too exposed with him there.

"Considering you're a professor now and not a student anymore, have you considered finding a place of your own instead of still living at the cottage?" Julia suggested. "I'm sure any one of us could help you look."

Eliot shook his head. "I would, but it's the only place that has ever felt like home. And if the others come back, they might end up there first and I'd want to be there," he explained, leaning forward on the kitchen island as he watched Penny move around to the other side of the island where his lower half was obscured and then tossed the towel over his shoulder. "Plus, none of the students and none of the Powers That Be at Brakebills has complained or said I _can't_ still live there, so…"

"Isn't Charlton there?" Penny wondered. "He's not a student or a teacher, so I imagine it's awkward for him when you're not there."

With a sigh, Eliot realized the truth to that statement, and suddenly felt like an ass for being away since the morning before. He hadn't seen his boyfriend since the night before when he'd left him to go to some party here in the city. After spending hours getting bombed off high end liquor in NoHo, he'd had every intention of going home to the cottage but only got as far as Kady's penthouse and crashed in a spare bedroom upstairs, even though he hadn't actually slept at all because of Hope's crying. Then, that morning, he'd gone straight to the school by way of a portal Julia had created out of a linen closet in the penthouse that never got used. After his obligation of teaching was over he'd returned to Kady's, not even thinking of Charlton, and just going to where most of his remaining friends were out of habit.

"Shit." Eliot swiveled slightly on the stool and stood up. "I should probably go, in that case. I'll, uh, see you two tomorrow, I guess. Or at least you in passing," he added, looking over Penny.

As Eliot slipped out of the kitchen and made his way upstairs toward that linen closet, Penny and Julia looked at each other and smiled a little bit. It was quiet again, aside from Eliot's footsteps, and their smiles grew wider due to the peace and quiet and knowing they'd be able to finally get some sleep in since their daughter was actually sleeping.

Letting out sighs of joy and relief at the thought of getting even just a few hours of shut eye in, they closed their eyes and enjoyed their moment of reprieve only for the linen closet door upstairs to shut a bit too loudly for their liking.

Penny and Julia's eyes popped open and their gazes turned tense and worrisome as they stared across the kitchen island at each other.

For a moment, the silence continued.

Then the wailing began again.

The exhausted parents tipped their heads down and this time their sighs were of frustration.

"I'm gonna kill Eliot the next time I see him," Penny remarked.

"Oh, come on," Julia spoke. "You and I both know all too well that she wasn't going to actually sleep for us, whether or not Eliot woke her up."

"But there was a chance. And he took it from us. So, I have no choice but to murder him," he quipped, running a hand over his tired face. "And very violently, at that."

Letting out a yawn, Julia stretched her arms upward and got off her stool. "Just make sure to clean up the mess afterward." As she walked off, she threw another comment over her shoulder at her baby daddy. "I got this. Get some sleep tonight since you got students to teach again tomorrow. But be warned you have full Hope duty this entire weekend."

Penny smiled after her. "Deal."

* * *

**November 1967**

The woman didn't require a wristwatch to tell it was nearing the time she was supposed to meet up with her friend John in the park near the Carousel. The sun had coasted to such an angle in the sky, obscured by so many of the skyscrapers, that she knew there was no more need to kill time. She had since had something to eat, fed her son, changed his diaper and eventually got tired of carrying him on her hip that she had made a stop inside Macy's and bought a baby carriage; having left hers behind in Sleepy Hollow. Now she was pushing the carriage with her son asleep inside. Her fingers curled around the handlebar while her thumbs held onto the handle to her suitcase, and she was thankful for the reprieve her arms and hips felt.

She approached the entrance to Central Park at 5th Avenue and West 59th, passing plenty of people walking around in every direction. At her back, over her left shoulder stood the Plaza Hotel, which was where she considering booking a hotel room in case she and John needed to stay the night in the city for any reason. She had stayed there once before years ago when she stood up as a bridesmaid in a wedding which held it's reception the Grand Ballroom. It was a simpler time, that's for sure.

Now she was making her way around the walking path, the rumble of motion created from the wheels on pavement keeping her son perfectly lulled. The blanket she had kept in the suitcase was now cradled around him, giving him an extra layer of warmth from the cool autumn breeze that was rustling her hair a little and giving her cheeks and the tip of her nose a rosy hue. Eventually passing through the Playmates Arch, she finally approached the Carousel. There was a variety of people still milling around; some were casual New Yorkers, some were tourists. The tourists were obvious to spot by the amount of photographs they were taking of each other, buildings and notable landmarks.

The woman looked around for the one familiar face she was waiting for, but didn't see John just yet. So, instead, she found a spot on a bench and sat down after one more check on her son that he was still contentedly asleep. Placing her suitcase down between her feet, she pushed the stroller a few inches in front of her and then pulled it back, slowly and steadily, knowing the motion would keep her son lulled. She sat like that for a while, likely no longer than forty minutes. Sunlight was dwindling considerably but it wasn't dark enough yet that the lamp posts were coming on. She decided she wouldn't wait until it was completely dark. Despite everything she was capable of doing to protect herself, being in Central Park after dark wasn't exactly ideal for a woman with an infant. Once the lights came on, she would make her way out of the park and head toward the Plaza Hotel.

She didn't need to make that decision, though.

Suddenly it was eerily quiet. There were no footsteps of passersby, no animals rustling in bushes or birds fluttering overhead or in the trees. It almost felt like being inside of a vacuum. There was also an oppressive feeling in the air that began to weigh heavily upon the woman's chest and shoulders; a sense of dread she couldn't shake. Tensing up, she straightened her back and began to look around. Looking over her left shoulder, she saw nothing and no one. Over her right shoulder she saw one lone figure of a man staring back at her. His brown hair was a little floppy and his sideburns were a new development, but the face was somehow always the same; always kind and a bit impish.

The woman smiled.

Pushing the stroller forward allowed her to stand up without obstruction. Turning her body in his direction, she smiled wider and waved him over. He removed his hands from his jacket pockets and waved back with his own smile upon his face, albeit smaller and more subdued, which was a little different for him. He usually had such a bright, wide smile as if he was always moments away from laughing. He greeted her with a nod of his head as he got closer and let his eyes drift toward the stroller and the child asleep inside.

"Hello, Aria," he spoke softly, which was another red flag about him that she didn't think too much into at the moment.

The woman—Aria—reached a hand out and placed it upon his shoulder, curled her fingers around the material of his jacket and pulled him in for a hug. "Oh, John, it's always so good to see you."

"How long has it been? A year?" he replied, stepping back from her once the hug ended.

"A little over five months," Aria answered, a little thrown by his forgetfulness. She gestured toward her son. "You came to visit me after he was born."

John placed his hand to his face and let out a slightly embarrassed chuckle. "Sorry. I've been swamped with work lately. I'm just tired, and the train ride here was a little exhausting."

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to imposition you."

"No, no. It's okay. We're friends. Friends are always supposed to be there for each other, no matter what, through thick and thin, aren't they?"

Aria smirked. "Yes, always, and that's why I'm eternally grateful for you coming here, at the drop of a hat, and without question."

"So, about your husband. How do you plan to get away?"

"That's what I need you for. Myself, alone, it would be easy to leave, but with my son? I need you. You and I together have the means to disappear with him; somewhere Dimitri would never find us."

"Where were you thinking?"

"Well, I have a few ideas, but only one that feels foolproof as long as I can prove it's possible," Aria began. "Remember those books that came out when we would've been toddlers?"

Before John could answer, a family of four came through the Playmates Arch and was making their way toward the Carousel. Then there was a couple, walking hand in hand, walking along another nearby pathway.

Placing his hand upon her elbow, John nodded in a completely opposite direction than the others that were approaching. "Come, let's take a walk and find someplace a bit more private."

"It's going got get dark soon. Maybe we just get out of the park. I was thinking of booking a hotel room at the Plaza. We can have privacy there."

"That's not exactly a great plan. Think of the paper trail that would leave for Dimitri to follow," John pointed out. "This, at least, is still somewhat public until we have things a bit more sorted out. We might need to leave the city altogether before night's end. We might need to be constantly on the move for quite a while."

Aria nodded. "True." Picking up her suitcase, she handed it off to John and he took it from her without hesitation. She felt his hand on her back for a moment and a chill shot up her spin and that feeling of dread returned. She glanced at her son, who was waking up from the motion of the stroller shifting directions, and then back up at John. "Alright, let's find someplace else to talk."

* * *

**September 2020**

At some point the next day, the exact time which was unknown to Eliot, he could be found languidly draping himself upon the window seat at the Physical Kids cottage, keeping himself propped up with at least three throw pillows and, one would assume, something else of the mind altering variety. His right leg was bent with his foot planted on the burnt orange window seat cushion underneath him, his left leg was outstretched on the floor below and he had some green velour knit blanket haphazardly cascaded over his torso, all while he faced the windows and was staring out at seemingly nothing in particular. He was so still that it almost looked as if he were asleep, but with his tired hazel eyes open. Aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest from breathing, he was as still as statue, and a thought like that seemed to be running through his mind; wondering what an actual statue of himself would look like. And then that thought process quickly took him to that statue in Central Park he loved and was the only thing these days that brought him some peace of mind when he visited it.

As he blinked the laziest of blinks known to all mankind, Penny suddenly appeared at the foot of the staircase and looked first toward the dining room on his right before glancing toward the large living space on his left. Around him, Hope was tucked into the sling baby carrier he wears frequently these days as having her there and holding onto her little hand is what allows him to travel now, since he can no longer do it by himself. When his dark eyes easily settled upon Eliot, the other magician let out a heavy sigh of mild frustration and stalked up to his fellow professor.

Penny folded his arms under Hope, cradling her in the sling, and cleared his throat. It was what finally drew Eliot's attention away from the window and not the way with which Penny arrived inside the cottage, like an unexpected flash of lightning on a cloudy day.

"Oh, hey, Penny. There you are," Eliot greeted gently.

"Here _I_ am?" Penny echoed. He gave Eliot's shin a slight nudge with his shoe. "There _you_ are."

Eliot nodded. "Here I am," he repeated and then looked back toward the window.

"The fuck are you looking at?"

"I'm watching the wonder of nature."

Penny arched an eyebrow, his tone faintly judgmental. "Are you stoned?"

"Little bit, but that's beside the point."

"Are you seriously just watching tree branches blowing in the wind or something? You missed all of the classes you were supposed to teach today. Lipson and I had to take turns substituting and it was a nightmare," Penny informed. Then, a little bit flustered, he added, "Your second years are assholes."

Eliot completely bypassed everything his friend had just said to him; his attention on what was beyond the window. Raising his right hand he pointed and tapped the windowpane. "I just saw a raccoon get launched out of a tree by another raccoon. Did you know they have turf wars?"

"Dude, really? What's going on with you?"

Eliot sat upright like another unexpected bolt of lightning. He turned his head and looked straight at Penny, suddenly very sober. "What's going on with me?" he laughed as if it weren't already obvious. "Where do I even begin?"

Penny sighed. "Listen, I know you've been dealt a lot of shit these last few years, we all have, but you gotta start getting your shit together. You're not a student anymore, you're a teacher. You have students that need you. Time to grow the fuck up…and I promise I say that with, like, love and stuff."

"I'm sorry," Eliot began, narrowing his gaze to something steely. "But you have not been dealt the same shit I have and I can't just get it together. I don't know _how_ to get it together. I've never _been_ together. The closest I came to being together was with people who aren't here anymore and with a damn woman made of stone."

"A what?"

Eliot waved Penny off with a flippant hand gesture. "A statue I frequent in the park. She calms me."

Lifting a hand, Penny placed it upon his daughter's head and caressed her dusting of dark hair for a moment to center himself. He was working on not being too much of a dick to anyone that wasn't Julia and his Hope helped with that. Thinking on what Eliot had said and staring down at his daughter, he could find some similarities in their situations. Hope helped center Penny and without Margo and the others around anymore, this statue Eliot mentioned was something that helped Eliot the same way, apparently. Although, Penny did find himself to be a little bit offended.

"I know you and I aren't, like, besties or whatever but we're still friends. And, you know, if you need someone to talk to about anything you're going through, you can tell me or Julia. I'm not sure Kady's the type to sit and talk about feelings, not that I really am, but there's always someone around. Plus, you got Charlton now. Which, by the way, where is he?" Penny glanced around the living space for some clue to Charlton's location.

"He hasn't been to a grocery store yet, so Todd offered to take him since the pantry and fridge are both running low on food since the last party that was held here," Eliot replied. He turned his body completely forward so that both feet were now planted firmly on the ground. Leaning forward slightly, he placed his face in his hands and then rand them downward with a sigh. "I know I have friends here still to talk to, but Margo has known me the longest and has always gotten me better than anyone else. It's hard without her. She's like an extension of me, but with ovaries. That statue…it's like a sounding board of sorts. I can talk to it—her—and feel no judgement, and not saying I'd necessarily get that from any of you, but…it's just that…it's a comfort thing. I can't explain it."

"Well, listen…" Penny shifted his weight from one foot to the other and returned both his arms to cradling Hope in the sling. "So, okay, you missed one day of classes. It's only the first week of school and it's a Friday at that. Even if you'd been there your students would've likely been too focused on the weekend and their first weekend to really party. I guess just…I dunno…maybe go do the same thing. Use the rest of today and this weekend to deal with some of your shit that you _can_ deal with and then just try and find something to look forward to next week, and the week after that, ad infinitum."

Eliot nodded. "Yeah, I probably should do a better job at adulting now."

"Or just fake it till you make it."

"That's pretty much been my life motto up until now." Eliot puckered his lips slightly in thought. "I should probably get a new motto."

The front door to the cottage clicked open and in walked Todd, followed by Charlton; both carrying a mixture of paper and plastic bags with groceries. Penny and Eliot both looked in their direction.

"I would live there if I could," Charlton was in the middle of saying as Todd chuckled.

"Live where?" Penny inquired, grabbing the attention of Charlton and Todd, who hadn't realized the other two men (and Hope) were there.

"Walmart," Todd answered.

Charlton stepped around him and held up the bags in his hands and had a bright smile plastered on his face. "It had everything a person needs. Food, check. Bedding, check. Toilet paper, check. Weapons, check."

Sensing a conversation had been in the process of happening between Penny and Eliot, Todd nudged Charlton with his elbow. "C'mon and help me put all this away and then you can tell Eliot about it."

Charlton nodded and began to follow Todd; still very engrossed with his newest experience in this world. "And did you see what those people were wearing? Or, rather, the lack thereof?"

As their voices faded to the other part of the cottage where the kitchen was located, Penny and Eliot turned their attention back onto one another.

"Maybe help your boyfriend put some groceries away," Penny suggested once it was just the two of them again. Three, if they counted Hope. "That's a mundane adult thing that can take your mind off some shit for a little while. And maybe talk to Charlton about it all. I mean, he might not know you as long as Margo has, but didn't he spend, like, two, years in your head and walking through all your memories or something. I'd say he has pretty good insight to who you are."

"Looking at pictures or watching documentaries of the Vietnam War isn't the same as living through it," Eliot parried. With a sigh, he stood up. Tossing the green blanket away from him, he reached a hand out and stuck one of his fingers through Hope's tightly balled fist. "Give me a lift somewhere, will ya? I don't think I can listen to how wonderful Walmart is and how strange the people that shop there look right now."

Penny hesitated for a moment.

The dickish response he was leaning toward blurting out was something along the lines of "suck it up and deal with it" but the friend in him who actually did want to help decided against being so brusque.

"Yeah, okay," he shrugged, placing a hand around his daughter's free hand. "Where to?"

* * *

**November 1967**

At the epitome of dusk, Aria found herself at a literal crossroads. Two paths in the woods near the Loeb Boathouse merged together. The area she was in with John and her now awake and babbling infant son was an area without lamps and, despite the lack of some leaves on the trees all around them, there was still plenty of tree coverage which prevented a lot of natural light from coming through and made it feel darker than it already was.

Something about this was no longer feeling right to her. Everything felt off. Well, technically, _John_ , felt off. The way he stared at her and how little he spoke as they made their way toward this section of the park was not like him at all. He was usually quite talkative and sassy with his comments, which always made her laugh and smile. It was one of the many things she had always loved and adored about him; how just being himself made her forget about all the negative thoughts or feelings she would, on occasion, find herself ruminating in.

"This spot seems good," John muttered. He set her suitcase down on a bench and placed a hand on the stroller's handle. "This is a nice carriage. New?"

Stepping to the side of the stroller, Aria was a bit distracted by his comment, considering it had nothing to do with why they were here and the more pressing matter at hand. "What—oh, yeah. I bought it earlier."

"Where at?"

"Is that really important right now?"

"Where at?" he repeated, holding her gaze.

"Macy's. Why?"

"Just wondering how you spent your day while you were waiting for me to show up. You're trying to flee from your husband with our child and you managed to find time to shop. I just find it amusing, is all."

"Wait. _Our_ child?"

Another red flag.

"Apologies. I meant _your_ son _._ Like I said, I'm just a bit tired." He flashed a small smile at her but not once did it reach his eyes the way John's smile usually did.

The dread in her chest and the oppressive feeling in the air was getting heavier and heavier. She was studying the way he was looking at her; the slightest twitch at the corners of his mouth when he attempted to smile, the way he enunciated his words a little too perfectly and the way he tilted his head in a way that was reminiscent of someone else she knew.

And then she knew what all those red flags were building toward warning her about and her fear and even her anger exploded tenfold.

"Dimitri," she practically spat.

Without warning, she grabbed for the handle to the stroller with both hands and found herself staring down at a hand that no longer belonged to a man who was thirty-two, the same as her. The hand was rougher, more weathered with age. Slowly, and with regret, she lifted her eyes from the hand to arm, and from the arm to the chest before she brought her face up to find herself staring at her husband there before her.

His hair was white and his was face lined with age from being double hers. It was no longer John's warm brown eyes staring back at her, but her husband Dimitri's cold grey eyes.

"Boo," he blurted with a cruel chuckle that followed. With just that one word, his normal Russian accent came out. "Honestly, _lyubimaya moya_ , how far did you think you would get? Did you not think I would know you would reach out to your beloved best friend?"

"Just let me go," Aria pleaded, not releasing her grip from the handle but praying he would release his. "You're a horrible husband and you'll be a horrible father. You don't deserve us."

"No, you are correct. I do not deserve _you_. But you must truly be the idiot child I always knew you were if you think I will let you go _with him_." His gaze drifted to their son. "If you had left alone, I would have let you go. I would not have batted an eye or cared where you went or if you ever came back. I have had a feeling for some time now you would try to leave me and that you would reach out to your parents, your brother or sister, or one of your friends from Brakebills. Of course, simple deductive reasoning told me that since you are not especially close to your parents or your siblings, your first choice would be to John. He is, as I said, your best friend, is he not?" With one hand still on the handle, Dimitri lifted his other hand to grip Aria's face between his thumb and fingers and squeezed roughly; his nails practically digging into her skin. "Did you not think I would take the necessary measures to make sure you could not reach out to him or anyone else? You thought you were talking to him one the telephone this morning, but it was me the entire time."

Aria looked confused and lifted her hands from the stroller hand long enough to perform a series of tuts to push him away from her but he deflected it with his own tuts. A second series of tuts from him blasted her across the paved path. She fell roughly back into some bushes and by the time she got back up to her feet he was standing there, facing her, with the fingers of his left hand curling down while his the palm of his right hand pressed against the back of his left. She knew the moment the fingers from his right hand curled downward and interlocked with the fingers with his left hand he could easily open his left palm and blast her backward again. With their son right there, it wasn't exactly an ideal situation to get into some battle magic with her spouse. She just didn't see how she could ever win against him.

Dimitri was a master magician. If he wasn't mentally or physically hurting her, he was doing so with magic. And he was able to use the latter more easily against her because he had twenty-five years of more experience behind him. She had always been an amazing student at Brakebills, the top of her class, but she was a novice compared to him and he reminded her of her shortcomings every chance he got.

"You don't have to do this. We don't have to end everything this way," she attempted to reason with him; knowing it would fall on deaf ears. "We don't have to be married anymore and we don't have to live together anymore, and I won't take our son from you. We could share him. Plenty of couples do it when they separate. You can have him on the weekends when you're not teaching."

"I will have him at all times. You will not."

Aria narrowed her gaze at him. "Dimitri."

"I will not have you make a fool of me, you sad woman. I said you could leave, but you crossed the line thinking you could take our son," he sneered. "He is mine."

"Dimitri, please," she repeated, noting how his stance changed.

He moved his body directly in front of the stroller so she couldn't do anything to him without somehow harming their son in return. And his posture became firmer and more threatening. He was preparing for something, but she wasn't sure he knew just yet what he was going to do.

"I could easily kill you and no one would ever find your body," he claimed. "And there's nothing you can do about it, because you are a joke. You are unskilled and without talent when it comes to magic. You could have never prevented me. You only got through your education at Brakebills and passed your examinations because of luck and my misguided attraction toward you." His words stung like swords. Considering they were words he'd been using against her for a few years now, one would assume she'd be used to it by now and they would have little effect on her, but such was not the case. It made her feel small, even now. "You wanted to disappear so badly from me, so I'll help you disappear forever."

Aria tensed at his threat. She looked around her and lamely at that. "Dimitri, please," she pleaded, slowly holding her hands up; not to fight him but in a gesture to reason with him.

"No one will ever know you're here. You'll be hidden from the world in plain sight."

Confused, Aria parted her lips to say something as he began several hand tuts, but the sound of approaching voices caused him to produce the gestures with more rapidity. Aria went to take a step forward and found her feet planted firmly on the ground and unmoving. She looked down and was horrified to see her feet and shins were turning to stone.

"Dimitri, stop it. No…"

The faster he went with the tuts, the faster the stone spread up her body. Aria couldn't even cry out because the stone had already reached her chest and was preventing her breath. The stone spread to her outstretched hands and up her neck. She could practically taste it now. As tears stung her eyes, the last thing Aria saw before the stone took her sight and encompassed her completely in darkness was Dimitri smirking back at her and then looking over his shoulder down at their son.

A mere twenty seconds after she had been turned into a statue, a couple rounded the corner from one of the paths that merged at the crossroads. A young couple in their twenties paused for a moment, seeing Dimitri standing there with the carriage behind him, and they then greeted him with polite smiles.

"Hello," said the man.

"Hi," said the woman, whose attention went toward the baby in the carriage. "Oh, how adorable."

"Thank you," Dimitri replied, easily regaining his composure without missing a beat.

The man nudged the woman who was clearly his wife, judging by the wedding bands on both their fingers. "Check out that statue. I've never seen that here before."

"I think it's new," Dimitri offered. "Some anonymous artist left it. I spoke to him earlier. It's a gift to the park, he said."

"Huh," the woman remarked with a smile. "It's an interesting work of art."

"Yes, she surely is," Dimitri agreed and the couple bid him adieu and then continued on down the path away from him and his son.

Somehow sensing a change in the air that his mother was no longer present the way she had been, the infant began to cry. Dimitri turned back toward him and reached a hand into the stroller to adjust the blanket draped over him. "Hush now, _moy_ _syn_."

Opening up the suitcase, he removed only the items that belonged to Aria and left them on the bench. Closing it back up, he lifted it up with one hand and then proceeded to push the stroller forward with the other.

"Goodbye, _moya zhena_ ," he said over his shoulder to the statue of his wife, that _was_ his wife. Leaning down toward his son, he smirked. "Say goodbye to mama."

* * *

**September 2020**

Eliot sauntered along the walking paths of Central Park; every few steps or so was more of a stumble, though. It was possible the random twig he wasn't paying attention to was the culprit but the higher likelihood belonged to the joint between his fingers and his flask in his opposite hand. He normally wasn't this much of a mess lately but his issues with the others being gone and just everything else in his life in general were clearly coming to a head. It was a strange cycle in his life. He was sure he'd get through this inner drama soon enough. Right now things were weird and foreign and quiet. With the latter that's when his thoughts ran amuck and he preferred not having to let his mind focus on his inner drama. He didn't like living in the past and the 'what ifs', but he also didn't really think too far ahead, if ever. He was more of a 'in the now' kind of guy.

Placing his joint between his lips, Eliot inhaled one last drag as it burned a little too close to his fingers. He held the smoke in for a moment and began to smile as he rounded a curve in the path that led to a crossroads. Turning right onto the path that intersected with the one he was currently on, Eliot stepped over to the bench that became like another home to him. Sitting down with ease, he flicked the butt of his joint onto the ground beside him and then crossed his ankles together and folded his hands in his lap. He then slipped his flask into an inner pocket inside his dress jacket.

"Hello, again, ladybug."

In front of him stood the statue, always there and waiting for him like a constant and reliable friend. There she was: the one he could talk to about anything and who made him actually enjoy the quiet. It made him feel happy when he had been feeling lost and miserable. Combined with how the simple artistry of the statue made him feel, what it ultimately brought out of him was this overwhelming feeling of love.

Now, it wasn't something as convoluted as romantic or sexual love. He wasn't one of those people who had the fetish of objectophilia. He actually looked into it a couple weeks ago about how he felt. It was something akin to Animism, which is the belief that objects, places, and creatures all possess a distinct spiritual essence and that those things, like plants and rocks and rivers, could be perceived as alive. More so, various animistic cultures also comprehend stones as persons. That helped Eliot view the statue in a way that he wasn't some weirdo having full on conversations with and caring so much about some simple statue, but that he was having full on conversations with and caring so much as he would with his other very alive friends.

Though, perhaps it wasn't so healthy for him to put so much focus on something inanimate. Perhaps he should be doing what Penny said and get it together. He did have a job now and he had students who needed him to teach them. He did have other friends still present and even a boyfriend he cared about. And, even though Margo, Josh, Alice and Fen were AWOL at the moment, they weren't necessarily gone forever. There was always a chance that someone could figure out where they were and bring them back. Or maybe they'd find a way to bring themselves back.

Life was full of possibilities so he couldn't give up on that and he should maybe start thinking about the positives instead of fixating on the negatives.

But who was Eliot kidding?

He was a creature of habit with bad habits.

For half a second just then he was contemplating this being his last visit to the statue, but then he began to smirk and emitted a short chuckle at how ridiculous it sounded in his head at being a well-rounded individual without any hang-ups.

"What a pipe dream," he muttered aloud.

Eliot glanced around at the immediate area he was in and listened closely. He saw no other people for the time being and he only heard the leaves rustling from the trees and shrubbery, and the occasional squirrel jumping from branch to branch overhead or scampering around on the ground nearby.

Drawing his eyes back up to the statue, he sighed. "I wish I knew how to quit you." He chuckled again, under his breath this time.

Uncrossing his ankles, he pushed up off the bench and stepped forward. A few more steps and Eliot was approaching the shin-high fencing along the edge of the paved path just a couple feet in front of the statue. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to it before. He'd never stepped over the fencing and wondered if he should. As he cast his eyes downward at the plaque at her feet, he suddenly felt the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up. He focused his gaze on the plaque and saw the words were disappearing.

Eliot's head shot up and he leaned closer, as if listening for something or trying to smell something. He found that the closer he got to the statue the more he noticed, upon squinting, that something was definitely in the air and how there was a sort of aura hugging the stone surface of the statue.

"What the fuck," he mumbled.

Furrowing his brow in thought, he felt compelled to reach his hand out. Also for the first time, Eliot touched his fingers down against the statue's outstretched left arm. The initial contact created what felt like a static shock and caused Eliot to jerk his hand back for a moment.

With a heavier sigh of perseverance, Eliot placed the palms of his hands against the palms of both the statue's hands and closed his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that the feeling in the air and the aura he'd noticed, as well as that static shock, was magic of some sort. He wasn't psychic like Penny, who would be useful right now in this situation, but he knew enough and was familiar with mental wards.

"What's here?" he wondered, trying to break through the wards and only catching quick glimpses that weren't able to paint any pictures for him.

Then, feeling like an idiot, Eliot pulled his hands away and dropped them to his sides. Giving his arms a shake, he lifted his right hand and, forming a circle with his index finger and thumb, looked through. The presence of magic was overly visible and no longer just an assumption. It was fact. It was a strong, crackling aura vibrating, not from the stone of the statue, but from underneath it. He opened the circle he created with his thumb and index finger, creating a gesture like a finger gun and then did the same with his left hand, but upside down. Touching each thumb to each index finger, he peered through the rectangular opening they created and the statue now revealed, not only intricate spellwork of a mastery level, but also an intense magical aura from beneath the stone that seemed to outline an actual skeleton. But, for whatever reason, the mastery level of spellwork encompassing the statue seemed to be breaking down, seemingly on its own.

"Holy shit," he blurted. "Holy shit, holy shit." Reaching out, he wrapped his hands around the statue's hands and felt such a strong burst of emotion from it and it was met with his concern and care for what the statue meant to him.

With little resistance, the pulsing of the magic coming from the statue began to form cracks in the stone. From the sound of it, Eliot could hear it coming from the base. Peering down, while still holding onto the stone hands, he saw the plaque crumble, and the feet crumbled to reveal a pair of feet in some rather comfortable looking flats. More flecks of stone cracked, fell away, turned to dust and then disappeared from sight.

Eliot looked over his shoulder, knowing this scene would be hard to explain to a non-magician, but was glad there was still no one around for the time being.

They lucked out.

And it was a _they_ because Eliot clearly was not the only person there.

The eroding of the stone ascended up toward the knees, revealing navy blue slim fit pants that tapered at the ankle. The higher it went the more it revealed, like the belt she wore that was black leather and the grey turtleneck that was tucked into her pants. The erosion spread up the chest and out toward her arms. As the stone dust fell toward the ground, Eliot soon found himself holding actual hands, with delicate fingers that began to subconsciously interlock with his fingers.

The moment the erosion crested toward her head, soft blonde hair found life again and she released a breath that had been suppressed for so very long. Green eyes were suddenly staring back at Eliot and the woman that now stood before him blinked and became quickly startled to be looking at him there so closely in front of her.

As the last bit of stone at the top of her head fell away and disappeared, the woman stumbled backward from him and let out a gasp of fear. She had jerked her hands from his grasp and performed the hand tut for the Force Push and sent Eliot tripping backwards over the fencing and skidding along the pavement behind him until he bumped into the bench.

"Ow," he grumbled.

"Sorry," she spoke, which caught him off guard; the fact that she was speaking and alive and not a statue after all. "Instinct." She was looking around rapidly and stepped forward over the fencing.

Eliot defensively held his hands up. "Whoa, just…stop."

"Where's my son?" she asked, ignoring him. She walked up toward the crossroads in the path. "Where's my son? Where did he take him?"

"Who? Lady, how long have you been like that?"

She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder at him and frowned. "My husband. He—he did that." She gestured over to where she'd been and then to herself; mimicking a statuesque stance for a moment. "I was leaving him. I had our son with me. He found me, us."

Eliot was pulling himself up to his feet, dusting his pants off. "Your husband took your son from you and turned you into a statue? I can see from that alone why you'd want to leave." Stepping closer to her, seeing how she was growing more frantic, he held a hand out as gently as possible. "Do you want to sit down? You've been standing for a long time, I assume."

She looked upward. "The sun's higher than it was before. Mid-afternoon? It's been at least a day, but there are more leaves on the trees," she was deducing.

"When were you turned to stone?" Eliot asked. As she looked at him, he asked further, "Was it 1967?"

"Yeah," she replied simply as if he were an idiot child. "November 15th. Well, it's probably the 16th now, at least."

"Try September 4th."

"Ten months?"

Eliot winced and cocked his head from side to side. "Well…a little bit longer than that."

She visibly tensed; worry washing over her face. "Two years?" she asked hopefully, walking closer to him.

"Well…"

"Don't hesitate on my account. You can tell me. I can handle it," she assured, though dreading the answer she would receive. "How long has it been for me? How long was I like that?" When he hesitated further, she grabbed his wrists firmly in her hands. "Please, how long as it been?"

Eliot looked upward, doing the math. With a sigh of sympathy for her position, he replied, "Ten months…plus another fifty two years." Off her stunned expression, he added, "It's 2020 and it hasn't exactly been the best year ever."

"Oh my god," she remarked, visibly defeated. She decided to sit down on the bench after all. Her shoulders slumped and she hunched forward, placing her face in her hands.

Moving back a few steps, Eliot sat down beside her as a jogger began to approach them from their right. Meanwhile a couple walking their dog came from the perpendicular path. Eliot waited to say anything until it was just him and his former statue-friend again. After a minute, they were in the clear and he shifted his body to face her. Pulling his flask out, he uncapped it and handed it over.

"Here, this might help with the coping. I should know."

Lifting her head a bit, she peered at him with tears stinging her eyes and he was impressed by how she was otherwise keeping herself pretty in control of her emotions. Eliot found a kindred spirit in her from that alone.

"Thank you," she said with a nod and accepted the flask. Tilting her head back, she brought it to her lips and took a swig. After a wince at the alcohol tingling her tongue and beyond as it made its way down her throat, she handed the flask back. "That was good. Vodka and something else…"

"Something of my own invention, you could say," Eliot replied with a smirk. He took a swig as well and then recapped it before returning it to the pocket inside his jacket from whence it came. "I may not be a master magician yet, if I ever will be, but I sure as hell am a master mixologist," he added with a sort of saddened pride. "What's your name, by the way? I've visited you frequently over the last two months, but never realized you were a real person this entire time or had a name. I just went by the plaque that called you 'Woman Concealed.' Or I called you ladybug, because this one time you were covered in a few of them."

"There was a plaque? I doubt my husband put it there. The last thing I saw of him with our son, they were leaving because someone was coming. I doubt he had time to create a plaque unless he came back." She sighed and looked straight ahead, pushing some hair out of her face. "Fifty three _fucking_ years."

"Yeah," Eliot frowned. "I'm sorry that happened to you. I'm Eliot, by the way. Eliot Waugh, to be specific. Obviously you're a magician, too, by that Force Push you used on me or, at the very least, a badass hedge witch."

"I'm no hedge witch. I graduated from Brakebills at the top of my class."

"I'm a new professor there now," he commented before again asking of her, "So, does Miss 1967 have a name? What do I call you? I could still call you ladybug."

"Aria," she answered with a small smirk. She glanced over at him and offered her hand. As he shook it, she added, "Aria Mayakovsky."

Eliot parted his lips at the mention of her surname. "Wait—what?"


End file.
